


rises on the air

by luminarai



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Hints of M/M/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Let Shao Be Happy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminarai/pseuds/luminarai
Summary: “Don’t worry about it, man,” Dizzee says. “Just come on in. You look lost.”And doesn’t that just hit the nail on the head. Half the time, Shao doesn’t have the slightest idea of what’s coming out of Dizzee’s mouth. The other half, he feels like he understands just a bit too well.





	rises on the air

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled, 'shaolin tries to deal with internalized hatred, dizzee serves all the truths, and thor is there for moral support'
> 
> there's so much rumi in this I should probably have put him in as a co-author. also, so many flying metaphors. so many. props to you if you can find all the references! 
> 
> title from "drum sounds rises on the air, its throb, my heart. a voice inside the beat says, "I know you're tired, but come. this is the way.""

 

The music inside is so loud that Shao can feel the bass reverberating through the metal staircase under his feet. He’s back at the pier only because he doesn’t feel like there’s anywhere else he can go. Even the Temple, his holy ground, is out. His own presence there now feels like an act of blasphemy.

For a second he has a vision of Zeke storming in the doors like Jesus cleansing the temple in Jerusalem, can almost hear Zeke’s voice, trembling, accusing him of turning it into a den of thieves.

For a second, Shao can’t breathe. He leans heavily against the rusty railing and gulps in air. He can taste salt on his lips.

It must be from the harbor. He wipes a hand over his face.

He can’t just stand out here. If he keeps thinking, he’ll fall apart, he feels the cracks already splintering along the seams of his joints.

He pushes open the door and slips in.

Just like last time, the place feels like stepping into an alternative reality. Like some parallel universe. The darkened window cuts out the real world, and the constant presence of art – it seems to emerge wherever he looks – reminds Shao of half-forgotten dreams. Dreams he desperately makes himself forget. His eyes can’t help but be immediately drawn to the broad spread of canvas on the wall to his right with its new colors and figures, still fairly empty.

The beat of whatever’s playing is slow, almost seductive, and under the familiar smell of paint and Krylon, there’s something darker, more human.

When he finally rips his eyes away from the wild stretches of paint – well, he isn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe to find them both passed out on the mattress on the floor, like when he came to get Dizzee a few days ago.

Well, they’re definitely on the mattress. 

“What the fuck,” Shao yelps, turning on his heel and staggering back out the way he came. Slamming the door behind him, he blinks against the cold night air but the image seems to be burned onto the back of his eyelids. Dizzee, spread out across that paint-splattered mattress like a spill of silk, fingers firmly gripping the blonde head between his legs. The pale, muscled back of the white boy, Thor, shifting with the movement of his hands over dark thighs, the curve of his backbone leading down to –

Nope. Shao digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Nope, not going there. It’s bad enough that he’s already seen more of Dizzee than he’d ever anticipated seeing in his life.

Shao is _this_ close to just saying fuck it and bolting when the door behind him opens up. It’s Dizzee, now in clothes.

“Hey Shao,” he says in that weird mild way of his. Definitely way too mild for someone who’s just been interrupted in the middle of what had looked like a pretty fucking spectacular time.

It hits him that Dizzee’s voice is deeper, just a hint of hoarseness. And Shao has seen his head tipped back, mouth curved into an ‘o’, and. Well, it’s a lot.

It does explain why the music was turned up so loud, though. 

“I can – I should go,” Shao says, staring at the shoulder of Dizzee’s wrinkled t-shirt. 

Dizzee just shakes his head and opens the door wider. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he says. “Just come on in. You look lost.”

And doesn’t that just hit the nail on the head. Half the time, Shao doesn’t have the slightest idea of what’s coming out of Dizzee’s mouth. The other half, he feels like he understands just a bit too well.

They go back inside. Thor’s putting the record back into the sleeve, placing it back into one of a stack of crates stuffed full of records. Immediately, there’s an itch in Shao’s finger to leaf through the titles, see if there’s any gold to be found. Thor’s still shirtless but at least he’s put on some jeans. Shao really doesn’t want to think about the tangles in his hair.

“’Sup, man,” he calls with a casual wave of his hand.

How are they both so relaxed about this? Shao feels like he’s a guitar string about to snap.

Dizzee pulls over a couple of mismatched chairs and gets almost-cold beers out from another crate against the wall. The ease with which he moves through the space, as if he’s completely at home, gives Shao pause. He doesn’t think he’s seen Dizzee look this comfortable anywhere else before. There’s always been the innate knowledge that he’s somehow different; no matter where he goes, something about Dizzee feels slightly off, like he’s on a slightly different wavelength than everyone else. Or like – a Reese’s pieces in a bag of M&Ms or something.

Words were never Shao’s strong suit. It seems like he can never say what he wants to say.

“Thought you’d be pissed at me,” Shao admits into the bottle in his hand. As far as he knows Boo-Boo is still locked up. Shao feels the guilt like a broken rib.

“I am,” Dizzee sighs. Shao swallows. Dizzee looks him directly in the eyes. “But I also know my brother, you know? Boo has always gone his own way. If someone tried to stop him, he’d just go harder, flatten out any resistance. And you’re my brother too, Shao, in your own way.”

Shao thinks he might vomit. Or scream. He doesn’t deserve this forgiveness, why isn’t Dizzee realizing that?

“You probably tried to stop him,” Dizzee continues, and Shao jerks his head in a tiny nod because he did. He did try to stop Boo but he didn’t try hard _enough_ , is the thing. “I knew something was going on. We can’t always protect the people that we love, Shao. We can only love them and hope that’s enough.”

“That’s real deep, man,” Shao mutters and pretends his voice doesn’t waver.

Thor comes back from wherever he was letting them talk in peace. He pops open a beer and settles on the edge of the mattress cross-legged. In the low light, he looks like some sort of pagan worshipper, golden hair still in tangles, blue shadows washing across the thick muscle of his chest, catching the glint of the light hair there. There are red scratches on the angle of his shoulders. He supposes that makes Dizzee a long-forgotten deity.

Or maybe, Thor’s the god he’s named after, and Dizzee his equal in that way. Both aliens and gods come down from the sky, after all.

Dizzee rests a bare foot on Thor’s knee, and Thor circles his ankle with a broad hand. It’s vulnerable in a way Shao has never known. He feels like an intruder.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” Thor asks him. Shao thinks of the Temple, again, and then Fat Annie’s, and feels his mouth sour. He takes a swig of his beer. “You can stay here for tonight, if you want.”

Shao has met Thor exactly once before, introduced briefly while the other boy was still covered in paint. Shao had let him and Dizz wash off together in peace. And now he’s offering Shao a place to stay.

Shao furrows his brows. “You tripping? You don’t even know me.”

Thor grins and shakes his head. “Nah, I mean it. And I know you from Dizz.”

“You’re among friends here,” says Dizzee. “We were gonna paint, wanna join?”

Shao wouldn’t call what they were doing earlier ‘painting’. Although if the state they were in the last time he was here has anything to say…

“A’ight,” he says, “and sorry, uh. For earlier.” He’s glad his skin is dark enough not to show the heat in his cheeks.

Thor and Dizzee both shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” Dizzee says.

Shao shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry about it,” he repeats, “as if I didn’t just walk in on you fucking. What the fuck, man.”

“Well, we weren’t actually fucking yet,” Thor points out. Dizzee kicks at his thigh but he’s laughing.

There’s an intimacy in it that Shao just doesn’t _get_. The way that they look at each other, all bright eyes and hidden messages, makes something weird twist inside him as he digs his hands through his pockets, finds a wrinkled joint. He’d figured that he’d be squatting in some half-burnt out shell for tonight. The least he can do is share.

They pass around the joint for a while. Whenever Thor and Dizzee pass it between themselves, their hands tangle unnecessarily, fingers lingering around knuckles. Feeling the sweet smoke spread through the room, Shao feels mellow enough to admit to himself that the contrast between them is almost – _pretty_. Thor’s hands are broad and so pale against Dizzee’s, which are long-fingered and strangely elegant. They both have lines of color under their nails and in the wrinkles of their knuckles.

There’s no expectation to the touches, is the thing. With a start, Shao realizes that he’s jealous.

Thor gets out a variety of spray cans, paints and brushes. He hands Shao a can of American Beauty red. It’s been ages since he last held one, but the shape of the metal against his palm is as familiar as ever.

“Huh,” Shao says. He hadn’t even realized he’d missed this.

“You don’t have to choose between the things that you love,” Dizzee says quietly beside him. “You can be whoever you want to be.” He steps up to the mostly empty canvas strung on the wall and starts laying out lines. Shao follows.

He knows Thor’s and Dizzee’s styles from around the city, from before he even met them as well. Where Shao was all about colors and boldness, Thor plays with lights and movement, while Dizzee has liquid strokes and depth. It’s interesting to watch their styles cross and merge in front of them.

Hell, it’s more than interesting – it’s _fun_.

At some point, Shao gets to rifle through the record collection. He waves a particularly shitty disco record in the air. “The fuck is this,” he yells but can’t stop the grin shaping his voice.

Thor laughs and grabs it out of his hands, leaving a baby blue set of finger prints on the sleeve, and puts it on. It’s terrible. Shao pretends to throw a wet paintbrush at him, while Dizzee ducks out of the way dramatically.

“Watch the ‘fro,” he complains loudly, patting his hair and getting dark green paint all over his curls.

“Pretty sure you’re getting enough color on it by yourself,” Thor says and brushes his lips against the corner of Dizzee’s jaw. “Rumi and the amazing technicolor afro.”

“How do you do this,” Shao blurts out. He’s not sure if it’s the weed or the strange sense of freedom in the air that has loosened his tongue. He throws an arm out, trying to encompass everything from the still-bleeding canvas to the lack of space between the two other boys. “How can you just – be like this?”

Shao hates feeling clueless like this, the way he has come to associate with _Curtis_ , but he’s never been so adrift before. His entire world has been dragged up, roots first, and rearranged. He’s barely hanging on, and here’s Dizz, feet firmly planted in the air, telling him that he can fly as well.

“Did you know I almost got hit by a train last week?” Dizzee says, quietly. His eyes are suddenly intense, golden black in the low light. The muscles of Shao’s arm jerk in surprise. “We were running from the cops. And I was in the middle of the tunnel but the train just seemed to pass right through me. It hit the cop, right behind me, and I thought for a moment, I must be dead. I was blind from the train lights, running through all that darkness when the tunnel just ended, right there. And Shao, I could see the sun rising.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles. “I don’t wanna live a half-life. I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.”

Thor stares at him like he’s seeing the stars after a long life under a smog blanket. Like he’s seeing light for the first time.

Shao swallows with difficulty. For a while he has to look away. “I don’t know how to be brave like that, man.”

He jumps at the feel of Dizzee’s hand on the bare skin of his bicep. Carefully, Dizzee leans his forehead against Shao’s as if he’s trying to share his thoughts with him. 

Had it been any other day, Shao would probably already have pushed him to his ass and stormed out. But Zeke’s rejection still burns like a botched amputation, and he feels Annie’s hands on him like a rope around his neck. Dizzee smells like paint and fresh sweat and some sort of dark cologne that Shao’s never known him to wear. It must be Thor’s, transferred from skin to skin. Shao wonders he will smell it on himself later.

“What are the words – _‘If you can’t be brave, just go’_?” Thor says. He’s moved closer to them so that his shoulder is knocking against Shao’s. Shao has no idea if those _are_ the words but Dizzee turns his head and shares another tender look with him so they must be.

Compared to the nonsense Dizzee usually spouts – where even Zeke looks like he can’t figure out where to begin, so how is Shao supposed to get it – this settles under his skin like a thrum. It’s like the bass line when he DJ’s, the same way it spins in circles and becomes a part of his body.

 _Just go, just keep moving forward_ , it seems to say.

Without saying much, they decide to settle down for the night. Shao washes his face in the tiny bathroom, looks while the colors from his hands swirl down the drain with the water. Before he was barely holding in his emotions, a dam starting to crack under pressure. Now, he feels wrung dry. It’s a nice change for once.

On the small mirror above the sink, there’s another line written in what appears to be bright red lipstick. Shao isn’t going to question where the lipstick’s from but it’s definitely Dizzee’s handwriting. _Fly towards a secret sky_ , it says, arrows stretching out from the letters.

When he moves back into the room, the lights are turned off. Dizzee is spread out on the mattress on his back, Thor curled in tight against him on his side. There’s plenty of space left for Shao. He leaves his shoes and belt by a chair and stretches out next to them, staring at the ceiling.

He can smell the both of them, the faint dark scent he caught off Dizzee before. He closes his eyes and hears the soft, chaste press of lips next to him, limbs moving against each other, settling in for sleep.

He’s never imagined that somebody could be so unapologetically happy like this. He can still see the quiet dread in Dizzee’s eyes that night he came to get him here, the way he turned his body to shield Thor. He remembers the tenseness of Dizzee’s body as he settled on the back of the bike, before Shao admitted his own little truth, in the best way he could.

Whatever happened that night in the tunnels really has changed him. Shao wonders how long it’ll be before the rest of the Kiplings get to know Thor. He can’t imagine it will be long.

He wonders how long it’ll be before the whole world gets to know the two of them.

The beat still pulses in his veins. Falling asleep to the warmth beside him, Shao thinks maybe, yes, maybe he can go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the rumi line that thor quotes is, "heart be brave. if you cannot be brave, just go. love's glory is not a small thing." 
> 
> the quote on the mirror is, "this is love: to fly towards a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. first to let go of life. finally, to take a step without feet."
> 
> also, krylon's american beauty red is basically shao's signature red, which...I have a lot of feelings about. feel free to come scream with me on tumblr! I'm luminarai there too.


End file.
